The air in the Sterling Enterprises boardroom was suffocating. Grief mixed with panic created a whirlwind of chaos that no one seemed capable of calming. Executives yelled over one another, papers scattered across the massive oak table, and Evelyn Sterling, the late Mr. Sterling’s widow, stood at the center of the storm, visibly struggling to maintain control. “This isn’t helping!” Evelyn’s voice trembled, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “We need solutions, not more problems." “But what solutions, Evelyn?” one man snapped, his tie loosened, and his face red from frustration. “Your husband was the backbone of this company. Without him, we’re lost!” Another voice chimed in, harsher this time. “Investors are already pulling out. We’re losing money. This company is going under if we don’t act now!” I exchanged a glance with Logan, who sat beside me, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp as they scanned the room. His hand brushed against mine beneath the table—a sm
The past three days had been a whirlwind of discreet calls, whispered plans, and sleepless nights. The moment Evelyn had voiced her suspicions about Victor and his mother, Logan and I knew there was more to uncover. This wasn’t just about business anymore—this was about justice for a man who had been taken far too soon. Logan and I worked quietly but relentlessly. With his extensive network of trusted contacts, Logan initiated an investigation that ran through channels only someone like him could navigate. I tapped into private investigative services, feeding them the little information Evelyn had given us and pushing them to work faster without compromising thoroughness. Every step we took felt like treading on glass; one wrong move, and the culprits could realize we were onto them. Finally, after three agonizing days, an unmarked courier arrived at Logan’s penthouse with a manila envelope in hand. He handed it over without a word, his expression giving nothing away, and left as
The news hit the airwaves like a thunderclap. The death of Victor’s husband, once a whispered mystery, was now a headline plastered across every news outlet. The scandal that had rocked the family of Evelyn’s late husband was finally being exposed for what it was: murder orchestrated by none other than his own stepmother and stepbrother. As the details of the case flooded the public eye, the nation watched in shock and disbelief. None had suspected such a gruesome betrayal. The family, once revered as pillars of success, had now become the center of a sordid drama that was too unbelievable for anyone to digest. Yet, in the aftermath of the chaos, one thing became glaringly clear—Evelyn had become the face of resilience and strength. The public’s sympathy was overwhelmingly on her side. Social media flooded with messages of support, with hashtags like *#JusticeForEvelyn* trending across platforms. Logan and I watched the developments unfold on the news, standing side by side in hi
The day had been long—filled with meetings, plans, and endless decisions. The weight of it all had settled heavily on my shoulders, and as I finally stepped into Logan’s apartment, I could feel the tension in my body, like a heavy cloak, pulling me down. I could hear Logan moving around in the kitchen, the soft clink of utensils as he prepared something for us to eat. The familiar sounds were comforting, grounding me in a way nothing else could. I made my way to the living room, sinking into the couch with a tired sigh, letting the soft cushions absorb my exhaustion. I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the ache in my body from the chaos of the past few days. The stress of the business, Evelyn’s husband's death, and everything that came with it… It had all been so overwhelming. But then I thought about Logan. He had been with me through every high and low, his presence unwavering, his support constant. And tonight, I wasn’t alone. A few minutes passed before I heard footsteps app
The day had passed in a blur of meetings and tasks, but my mind wasn’t fully focused on the work anymore. It was on him—Logan. On us. On the idea of taking that next step, of building something more solid, more real. Something that wasn’t just about business or fleeting moments but about us, together.I hadn’t been expecting the conversation that came after dinner. We were both sitting on the couch in his apartment, the silence between us comfortable and easy. The city lights outside bathed the room in a soft glow, but it was Logan’s presence that had my full attention. He had this way of making everything feel right, like nothing else mattered when we were together.“Aliyah,” he began, his voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of something deeper, something vulnerable. He shifted slightly, his hand finding mine on the couch between us. His fingers curled around mine, as though testing the waters for something more. “I’ve been thinking. And I know we’ve talked about taking this
"You look breathtaking, Aliyah," Logan whispered, his voice sending shivers down her spine.Aliyah's cheeks flushed with pleasure. She was dressed in a sleek black dress that hugged her curves perfectly. The soft fabric accentuated her slender waist and showcased her full, round breasts. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her flawless face."You're not so bad yourself, Logan," she replied, her voice laced with a playful tone.They moved closer, their bodies almost touching, and the air between them crackled with unspoken desire. Logan's hands gently cupped Aliyah's face, his thumbs brushing against her soft cheeks. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, sensual kiss. Aliyah melted into his embrace, her lips parting to welcome his exploring tongue.The kiss deepened, becoming a dance of passion and longing. Logan's hands traveled down her body, tracing the curves of her hips before sliding up to cup her breasts. He teased her sensitive nipples through the fab
The room was dimly lit, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant chirping of crickets. Logan lay sprawled on the bed, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he caught his breath, the remnants of their passionate encounter still simmering in the air.Aliyah sat up beside him, her naked body glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. She reached over to the nightstand, her fingers brushing against the cool metal of a blindfold. A mischievous smile played at the corners of her lips as she turned back to Logan."Hey," she whispered, her voice a sultry purr that sent a shiver down his spine. "I’ve got something else in mind for us."Logan's brow furrowed in curiosity. "What are you up to?"Aliyah didn't answer right away. Instead, she leaned forward, pressing a finger to his lips to silence him. Her touch was electric, sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through his veins. Slowly, she brought the blindfold to his eyes, her movements deliberate and teasing.
The first thing I noticed when I woke was the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the curtains, painting golden patterns on the bedroom walls. The second was the dull ache in my muscles—a testament to the intensity of the night before. I groaned softly, burying my face deeper into the pillow. My body felt deliciously heavy, like I had been stretched and worked in ways I hadn’t been in a long time. “Logan,” I muttered under my breath, the memories of the night before replaying vividly in my mind. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to strangle him or kiss him senseless for what we’d done. The bed shifted, and I froze, suddenly aware of the warm, solid presence beside me. I turned my head to see Logan lying on his back, one arm slung lazily over his face, his chest bare and rising steadily with each breath. His hair was a mess of dark waves, and the slight scruff on his jaw made him look rugged and unbearably handsome. God help me, even in sleep, the man looked like he belonged in a
Special Chapter: A Day at the Mall It was a typical Saturday afternoon, and Logan, Ethan, and I were out for a little family time at the mall. We’d just finished a fun round of window shopping and were now heading toward the food court to grab a bite. Ethan, of course, was more interested in the giant stuffed animals at the toy store, tugging at Logan’s hand as he pointed toward a huge bear. “Daddy, look! Bear!” Ethan exclaimed, his little voice full of excitement. Logan grinned and ruffled his son’s hair, nodding along. “I see it, buddy. We’ll check it out after lunch,” Logan said with a chuckle. As we strolled down the crowded walkway, a woman, tall, with platinum blonde hair and a tight-fitting dress, caught sight of Logan and smiled. She was clearly giving him the once-over, her eyes lingering a little too long. I raised an eyebrow, already sensing the energy shift around us. Ethan, oblivious to the woman’s intentions, tugged harder at Logan’s hand. But I couldn’t help but n
It was a quiet Sunday morning when I woke up to the sound of soft laughter and the rustling of blankets. My eyes fluttered open to see Logan, sitting by the edge of the bed, his hand gently brushing through our son Ethan’s hair. Ethan, barely three years old, was squirming around in the bed, his little feet kicking and giggling as Logan tried to wrangle him into a proper sitting position. “Come on, buddy,” Logan chuckled, his deep voice full of warmth. “You’ve got to let Mama sleep a little longer.” Ethan’s small, chubby fingers gripped the blankets, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he looked up at his dad. “No, Daddy! I want Mama!” he declared, a pout forming on his face. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Ethan was already a little ball of personality, full of energy and opinions. He had Logan’s eyes—bright, bold, and full of curiosity—and my smile, which he flashed every time he did something mischievous. I stretched, letting out a soft yawn before rolling over to face
One month after Logan proposed to me, we had both found our rhythm. We were deeply in love, and though the months had passed quickly, everything between us felt as though it was meant to be. Logan was exactly the kind of man I had always dreamed of, and now we had a future together—a future that started with that beautiful, unforgettable proposal by the lake.The months leading up to our wedding were a whirlwind of planning, excitement, and of course, some typical stress. Logan, surprisingly, took an active part in planning. I had always expected him to be the type to let me handle everything, but no. He was there, involved in every decision—from choosing the venue to selecting the color of the napkins. Every little detail mattered to him because, to him, it was all about making our day perfect.And finally, a year later, the day arrived—the day I had waited for all my life. Our wedding.The morning of our wedding, I was a bundle of nerves. I couldn’t believe it was finally happening.
The kitchen was quiet now, save for the soft clink of plates being stacked and the occasional hum of the refrigerator. We had just finished breakfast, the warm aroma of pancakes and coffee still lingering in the air. I glanced at Logan, who had pushed his empty plate away, his eyes already shifting toward the clock. It was time for him to get ready for work. I felt a dull ache in my body, a reminder of the night before. But it didn’t stop me from feeling a warmth in my chest as I cleared the table. Logan and I shared a soft smile, the kind of smile that said everything without needing words. There was something so simple and comforting about mornings like this—just the two of us, taking things slow, enjoying each other’s presence before the world outside pulled us in different directions. Logan stood up, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn. “I’m gonna get ready,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep. “Don’t overdo it, okay?” I smiled at him, shaking my head. “I’l
I woke to the soft light of the morning creeping through the edges of the curtains. For a moment, everything felt hazy—the kind of foggy morning when you know you’ve had a good night but still feel the remnants of it in your body. The soreness hit me first. It wasn’t painful, more like a gentle ache, a reminder of last night. My skin was warm with the lingering sensation of Logan's touch, and as my hand brushed against the sheets, I could feel the marks he left behind—his hands, his lips, his warmth. It was funny, in a way. I should’ve been groaning and rolling back over to go to sleep, but instead, I felt a sense of contentment that I hadn’t realized I needed until now. The room was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the fridge in the kitchen. Logan’s soft breathing filled the space beside me, and I glanced over at him, still sound asleep, his tousled hair falling over his forehead, the covers tangled around his body. He looked peaceful—completely at ease, and it made my heart swell.
The dinner had been a tense affair, with Aliyah's father dominating the conversation, his deep voice filling the cozy dining room. Logan, sitting across from his girlfriend, Aliyah, felt a simmering impatience as he politely engaged in small talk with her father. He longed for the moment they would be alone, away from the scrutinizing eyes of her parent. Aliyah, with her dark, sultry eyes and full lips, seemed to sense his restlessness, a mischievous smile playing on her face throughout the meal. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Aliyah's father stood, his tall frame towering over the table. "Well, I should be heading off. You two enjoy the rest of your evening." He gave a warm smile, seemingly oblivious to the electric tension crackling between the young couple. As soon as the front door clicked shut, Logan was in motion. He rounded the table in a swift stride, his eyes locked on Aliyah. Her heart raced as she watched him approach, knowing what was to come. With a swift,
The sun filtered through the hospital blinds, painting the walls with soft streaks of gold. It was my discharge day, and I couldn’t be happier. After days of recovering in the sterile environment of the hospital, I was ready to feel the fresh air on my face and return to normal life. Logan had been by my side throughout, his steady presence a source of comfort, and my father had dropped by regularly, bringing a mix of concern and teasing to keep me grounded. I was halfway through packing my belongings when the door opened, and in strolled my father, Oliver Whitmore, with his usual air of authority. His sharp suit, as always, was impeccable, but the warmth in his eyes softened his otherwise commanding demeanor. He stopped near the bed and gave me a once-over. “Well, look at you, Miss Whitmore,” he began with a mock-serious tone. “Out of bed, moving around, looking like you’re ready to conquer the world again.” I smirked as I folded the last of my things. “It’s about time, don’t y
It had been a few days since I’d gotten out of the hospital, and I was slowly regaining my energy. The fog in my head was clearing, and for the first time in a while, I felt like myself again. The tension that had been hanging in the air between me and Logan had faded, and I could sense a familiar comfort returning between us. Logan had barely left my side since the incident. He was always there—whether it was bringing me food, keeping me company, or making sure I had everything I needed. I could tell he was worried, but he never said a word. His presence alone was enough to make me feel safe. That evening, a few of my friends stopped by to check on me. Perlas, Iris, and even Ben made an appearance, bringing laughter and warmth to the room. We spent hours talking, reminiscing about old memories, and catching up. But through it all, I couldn’t help but notice Logan sitting quietly beside me, his eyes always on me, making sure I was okay. At one point, I caught him staring at me f
The soft rustling of the hospital room faded as I sat up in bed, slowly peeling back the covers. I hadn’t realized how much the weight of everything had been hanging on me until now—how long it had been since I felt like I could finally breathe easy. As I was idly stirring my breakfast, lost in thought, the door creaked open. My head snapped up, expecting to see one of the nurses, but instead, I was met with the familiar sight of my father. I blinked, not sure if I was imagining things. My heart leapt in my chest at the sight of him. It was a rare thing to see him drop the composed act, and yet, there he was, standing in the doorway, his face a strange mix of concern and relief. “Dad?” I said, my voice catching in my throat. For a moment, neither of us spoke. He just stood there, looking at me with those tired eyes of his, his lips parted like he was trying to find the right words. It hit me then—how much he must’ve been worrying, how much he must’ve felt helpless, and the realizat